


Five Places Dean and Sam Shouldn't Have Visited

by kronette



Category: American Gothic, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dark Angel, Gilmore Girls, Smallville, Supernatural
Genre: 5 Things, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossover with (1) American Gothic, (2) Gilmore Girls, (3) Smallville, (4) Buffy, (5) Dark Angel</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Places Dean and Sam Shouldn't Have Visited

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 22 June 2010 @ 09:23 pm. This story is over 4 years old. I took me this long to finish it. Yah, me!

1\. Trinity, South Carolina

The Impala’s headlights shone across the sign for the upcoming town: _Welcome to Trinity._

It was nearing midnight, and for once, they didn’t have anything pressing that needed their attention. Dean didn’t want to think of it as ‘vacation’, but he definitely needed a break. Just a week or two without demons, poltergeists and freaks-well, with the exception of his brother. 

Sam was fighting off sleep next to him, and Dean grinned mischievously. It had been months since their ‘prank war’. Maybe it was time to dust off the…

Sam was awake instantly and glaring at him. “Dean,” he barked sharply. “You so much as even finish that thought and I’ll kick your ass. This is down time, man.” 

His grin widened. “Why Sammy, how do you know what I’m thinking? Maybe I’m just enjoying the appeals of small town America.” 

Sam’s glare hardened. “Down. Time. I need to relax just as much as you do. Probably more,” he added under his breath. 

Dean shot him a sideways glance. “Definitely more, little brother, seeing as your freakish nature won’t let you ‘hook up’ for even one night…”

“Will you shut up?” Sam snapped and crossed his arms. 

He chuckled, but his next glance was tinged with seriousness. Sam _hadn’t_ hooked up since they got back together, over a year now. It wasn’t healthy for a boy to go that long without sex with another person. He wasn’t even sure that Sam jerked off; if he did, his brother was _silent_ , and that was freaky enough. 

“Hey,” he began softly, near to apologizing, when colorful lights reflected in the rearview mirror, annoying Dean to no end. “Shit,” he grumbled. “I wasn’t even speeding.”

"Chill," Sam warned as a shadow, then a face appeared at Dean's left. 

Dark eyes swept the interior of the car, lingering on the glove box a shade too long. Whoever this guy was, his gaze was too knowing. Dean was instantly on alert. "Something I can help you with, officer?" he asked politely. 

"Sheriff Lucas Buck," the man intoned dryly, flicking a finger between them. “You boys out for a drive?” 

"Just passing through. Sir," he tacked on, sensing it was necessary. Or required. He did _not_ like the vibe coming off this 'sheriff'. 

"It’s awful late to be still driving, son.” It wasn’t a rebuttal, but Dean sensed more behind the statement, like the sheriff knew exactly what they were, what they did, and where they were going. It was beyond eerie. He was suddenly glad they’d packed all their special gear in the hidden trunk space; having any trace of their “occupation” would definitely tip this sheriff off, and Dean didn’t want to get stuck answering a bunch of questions. 

“Especially with a burned out headlight,” the sheriff continued, snapping Dean’s attention back to him. “I wouldn't want you to get hurt in my town, on such a quiet road so late at night.”

A chill went down Dean’s spine at the implied threat. Implied threat? Yes, that _was_ a threat. Dean glanced at his brother, equal looks of trepidation shared. "Are there any stores open where I can get a light?" Dean asked, gut instinct telling him the answer before the sheriff confirmed it. 

"I'm afraid not. You boys can stay at the boarding house, if you'd like. I'll escort you there." It wasn't a request, and Dean fought to remain calm, despite all his senses going haywire. 

"Lead the way, sheriff," he said, starting the Impala again. He set his jaw as he pulled out behind the unmarked car, following at a respectable distance. 

"Dude, what was that?" Sam breathed, keeping his voice low. “Did it seem like he knew what we do for a living? Like he was almost taunting us?”

Dean made sure to signal and kept the required distance between their cars, painfully obeying every traffic law he could recall. He shivered again and snarled, "I don’t know, and I don’t _care._ We're hauling ass as soon as he's gone.” 

“The sooner, the better,” Sam agreed with a shiver of his own. 

Dean slowed as the sheriff’s car pulled in front of a three-story boarding house. “Also? Mark Trinity _off_ our map."

He glanced over, and Sam had out their map of the east coast, scratching through that particular region of South Carolina. "Way ahead of you, Dean."

2\. Star's Hollow, Connecticut

"Dean, it's Connecticut," Sam intoned with disbelief. " _Nothing_ happens in Connecticut." 

"Exactly why we're going, Sam. No demons, no poltergeists, no freaks. I'm overdue for shore leave, dude. It's been ages." 

"It's been a week," Sam corrected dryly, recalling how cramped he was in the back seat of the Impala. He wasn't supposed to end up sleeping in the car, but when Dean left the bar with not just one, but two simpering women on his arm, Sam knew he wasn't going back to their room. He wasn't interested in one-night stands, so Dean had taken the "grievous task" of making sure both the women were taken care of. 

It made Sam a little nauseated, thinking of all the women Dean had gone through. Also, a little on the jealous side. It _had_ been a long time for him, after all. 

Dean shrugged and leered at him. "Hey, I offered to let you have your pick. Not my fault you're a prude." 

Prude, for not wanting to hook up with a woman _the next bed over_ from his brother? What world did Dean come from again? Making a big production out of stretching his legs and making lots of dissatisfied noises, Sam glared over at his brother. "You pull that on me again, and we're getting separate rooms." 

"We can't afford that," Dean protested. 

"Then start using your upstairs brain a little more," he remarked snidely. He glanced out the window at the perky sign - how could a sign be perky? - _Welcome to Star's Hollow!_  


The interstate gave over to nicely paved streets, rows of cute houses on either side, most with white picket fences and children playing in the sunshine. 

"This is freaky," Dean commented, and Sam had to agree. 

"Why'd you pick Connecticut again?" he asked, eyes widening at the Inn set back from the road. They'd seen a lot of small towns in their travels, but none, except possibly Trinity, had been this... _clean_. 

"Haven't been here before," Dean remarked with a shrug. "I figured new town, new sights." 

They drove through the town proper, then circled back around, just to make sure. "There has to be one," Dean griped, twisting the wheel to make a third pass.

"I don't think so," he replied. 

"DUDE! What sort of town doesn't have a _bar_?" Dean exclaimed, horrified.

"Apparently, Star's Hollow," he replied dryly. "Why don't you pull over and we'll ask in the diner? Looks like it's well populated." 

_ Luke's Diner _ was next to an honest-to-God ice cream parlor, and Dean let out a whimper. "Small town Americana has outdone itself." 

Sam shoved him toward the driver’s door, indicating it was time to face the town. "Let's go, you big baby." 

Sam unfolded himself from the passenger's seat and stretched, little pops of his spine correcting the awkward position he’d been in. He could hear Dean grumbling under his breath and shook his head. He hopped the curb and caught the doorjamb above Dean's head, ducking in after him. The lunch rush seemed to be going strong, as all the seats were full. The diner wasn't overly big, but big enough. Dean indicated the counter and he gave a head tilt and a shrug. Wherever was good. 

They only had to wait a minute before two stools opened up, and they both straddled the red vinyl, Sam cursing as he bumped his knees. 

"Freak," his brother hissed at him, and he shot him an annoyed glare before snagging one of the menus. 

The man behind the counter, dressed in a backwards baseball hat and flannel shirt, turned with two empty coffee cups. 

The guy glanced up, lifted his eyebrows and said, "Hey, Dean, be right back," while looking directly at Sam, then turned to deliver an order to a table. 

Dean straightened instantly, and Sam tensed. "Dean?" 

"Never saw him before," his brother said, voice low. Both brothers tracked the guy covertly as he refilled drinks and set two more orders down. They played it nonchalant as the guy returned behind the counter and pulled an order pad. 

"So, what'll it be; the usual?" the guy asked with raised brows, as he jotted down an order. 

"Do I know you?" Dean asked, drawing that attention away from Sam. 

The guy barely spared Dean a glance. "No, don't think so. You with Dean?” The glance slid to Sam. “Hey, is this one of your buddies from work?" the guy asked, putting out a hand toward Dean. "Luke Danes." 

"I'm not with Dean; I _am_ Dean," his brother growled, sending the guy death glares. "But I want to know how you know that." 

"No, he's Dean," Luke thumbed over at Sam.

"I'm Sam," he corrected. 

Luke looked questioningly at Sam. "Dean?" 

"Dude, you are seriously getting on my nerves," Dean snapped.

"Well, I'm not the one saying he’s Dean!" Luke retorted, annoyed.

Dean pushed halfway off the stool, gaining height on Luke. " _He's_ not Dean!" 

"Dean, chill," Sam interjected before they came to blows. He thought he had one of his real IDs on him, so flipped through his wallet quickly. He slid his California driver's license across the countertop. "Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean." 

Luke stared at the ID, then back at Sam. "You're not Dean." he stated, still looking in disbelief, like it was a joke. 

Dean's vein was pulsing in his temple. "Didn't he just say that?" 

Luke shook his head. “No, I mean…never mind.” The man sighed, then picked up the order pad again. “What’ll it be?” 

Still unnerved, the brothers ordered burgers and soda, Dean keeping a watchful eye on Luke. 

“Dude, chill,” Sam whispered. “It was just some freaky mistaken identity.” 

“Someone who looks enough like you that this guy was seriously pissing me off? No, I don’t buy it,” Dean hissed as his eyes slid from Luke to the jingling door. “Oh, _hello_.” 

Sam turned at the lecherous tone and had to admit, the woman in the doorway was attractive, with dark hair and a bubbly smile. _Bubbly?_ What was it about this town? As he was shaking his head, he caught sight of a young woman staring out the window as though she’d seen a ghost. 

The newly arrived woman slid into the chair next to the young woman. They looked like sisters, with the same dark hair and pixie faces. “Hey, kiddo, you all right?” she asked as she put an arm around the younger girl. 

The younger sighed. “It’s just…Dean,” she said and indicated someone across the street. 

Next to Sam, Dean sat up straighter and turned fully on the stool, and both brothers stared out the window at Sam’s doppelganger. The man’s hair was a bit shaggier, and he was sporting some facial hair, but he was a dead ringer for Sam. 

“Dude, we need to check this out,” Dean murmured, but Sam gripped his arm to stop him. 

“No, I don’t think we do,” Sam replied faintly. The wistful longing he could see in this Dean’s face was like a painful jab to his memories of Jess. Obviously, the young woman and this Dean had been a couple once, or had never been together but desperately wanted to. It brought up too many ghosts for Sam. “We should leave before he spots us.” 

Without further explanation, he sneaked through the kitchen, Dean at his heels, to weave his way back out to the car. A fine tremor shook his hands, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. 

Dean remained silent, just started the car and took off for the edge of town, leaving Star’s Hollow in the rearview mirror.

3 Smallville, Kansas

“Almost home,” Dean noted absently as they crossed into Kansas. 

His brother snorted softly. “Since when do you consider something ‘home’?” 

Dean snapped his mouth shut and stared straight ahead, not giving his brother any more ammunition. It had been a fucking _long_ week, and he was tired. Bone-deep, eyes-burning _tired._ He just wanted to find a motel and crash for a day or three. Preferably without his brother ragging him, but he’d rather have that than silence.

A motel just outside Smallville declared they had HBO and vacancies, so he pulled into the lot and left the car without a word. A flash of a credit card, a quick fake signature, and he was given the keys to room 112, around the back. He returned to the car, pulled around the hotel and parked in front of their room, tossing Sam the hotel key as he left the car again. He retrieved their bags from the trunk, slamming the lid harder than necessary, while Sam glared at him from the partially opened door. 

He focused his glare as he walked up to Sam, daring him to remain in the doorway so he could shove him aside. Sam relented as he neared, slipping through the doorway so Dean could manage the two bags and slam the hotel door closed.

Fingers deftly locked the door, and the bags were tossed near the foot of the nearest bed. Dean stripped off his jacket and one-armed it toward a chair, where it landed half across the back. His outer shirt was next, meeting the jacket on the chair. 

“Are you going to bed?” Sam asked incredulously as he glanced at the clock.

Dean knew it wasn’t more than seven at night, but he wasn’t hungry, just tired. His eyes burned and his head swam, and the pillow looked like a cloud calling to him. He tugged off his boots, pushed down his jeans and pulled back the covers, settling beneath them with a deep groan. 

He didn’t drift to sleep, more like sleep body-slammed him, and the next thing he knew, he was wide-awake. It was much later than when he’d fallen asleep. He could hear Sam’s even breathing from the next bed over. The TV was on, and – whoa. Dean tilted his head, and yeah, that was Real Sex. Damn. He set about happily watching until Sam started making noises that signaled he was about to wake up. He shut off the TV and slipped out of bed, getting to the hot shower first. 

Sam was not amused when he woke up and discovered – the hard way – that the water would only get lukewarm. “Jerk,” he snarled as he quickly dried himself off. 

“Yeah, bitch, bite me,” Dean called as he collected the last of his things. “Let’s hit town so I can get breakfast.” 

Sam physically stopped getting dressed and turned to him. “Will you chill for a bit? I’m barely dry here and I’m just as hungry as you are.” 

“Looks like you got something late last night,” Dean accused as he stared at the evidence in the trashcan. “I fell asleep, remember? I need food, so let’s _go_!”

Sam rubbed the space between his eyes. “Just…go, Dean. Give me a call when you find someplace decent. I’ll meet up with you there.” 

Dean grinned. “Fine by me!” He slipped on his jacket as he slipped out the door. “Catch you later.” He saw Sam’s bitchface glaring at him through the window as he started the Impala and drove it the few blocks into the town proper. He found a spot a few doors down from something called “The Talon” and parked her, then strode onto the sidewalk. 

A group of four teenagers was approaching him, so he stepped to the side to avoid them. He startled as one of the guys stopped and slapped him on the shoulder. 

“Hey, Jason, great game, man!”

Another guy chimed in with, “Awesome play as the clock ticked down, Coach. Go, Crows!” 

Dean turned and glared at the retreating teenagers. What the _hell_? Maybe it was some weird hazing ritual around Smallville? Shrugging as his stomach rumbled, he pushed open the door to the Talon and winced at all the bright colors. It looked like a kid’s show had thrown up. Feeling faintly nauseated, he walked up to the counter and surveyed the sweets in the case. 

“Hey, sweetie,” a short girl with long black hair called out to him as she passed with a tray of food. 

Again, what the _hell?_

__ When the girl returned, he tried to ask her who this town thought he was, when she pressed up against him and kissed him. Thoroughly. His hands were at her waist before he knew it, drawing her closer. 

That’s when she pulled back and stared at him. “You’re not Jason.” 

He cursed himself for feeling heat on his face. “No, but would it make a difference if I said I wish I was?” He caught her wrist before her palm could connect with his face. “Hey, sister, you kissed _me_. I came in for food and answers.” 

She went lax in his grip, so he released her arm, though stayed wary. Women were _fast_ when it came to slapping guys. “Lana.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“My name is Lana. Jason is my boyfriend…and you look just like him.” Her eyes kept studying his face, as if trying to find a difference between this Jason and him. 

He wiped a hand across his face and forced back a groan. He really, _really_ hoped this didn’t turn into another shapeshifter. Once in a lifetime was enough. “Has he been acting strange, lately? Or have strange things been happening around town?” 

She reached out to squeeze his forearm. “Be right back.” 

Confused, he watched her dart behind the counter and grab a coffee pot, then walk over to a table who had been requesting a refill. Right, she was the waitress this morning. Deciding that sitting was better than standing around looking like this girl’s boyfriend, Dean slid into a chair and flipped open his phone. 

“Where are you, man?” Sam grumped over the line. “I’m at the edge of town but I haven’t spotted the car yet.” 

“See the big sign for The Talon? Head there. I’ve got us a seat. And you’re not going to _believe_ this.” 

4\. Sunnydale, California

"I can’t believe I’m about to fight vampires again," Dean muttered as he closed the trunk lid of the Impala. He glanced at Sam, who was belting the knife around his waist. 

"Ready?"

"Let's do it." 

They crept through the cemeteries - seemed to be a lot of them in Sunnydale - checking for freshly dug graves. They spotted a few but nothing, living or unliving, jumped out at them. It was eerily silent. 

"Where is this nest supposed to be?" Sam hissed as they passed another mausoleum. "And the packs?" 

"Don't know," Dean whispered back, sensing movement out of the corner of his eye. He held up a hand and pointed left, and felt Sam stiffen behind him. Moving quietly, they circled around, getting closer to the source. 

And jumped back when a body came flying at them over the tops of the headstones. Another followed, and Dean caught a glimpse of their faces. "Eww," he muttered. Definitely of the ugly department, complete with fangs. 

"... _so_ not in the mood right now," a short, blonde girl snapped as she ran up to the first vampire. "My," the boys winced as she punctuated each of her word with a fist to the face, "date," punch, "is," punch, "waiting," punch, "on," punch "me." She took out a wooden stake and thrust it into the body. 

Dean and Sam both looked at each other in surprise as the vampire turned to ash in a light explosion. 

The girl stood and dusted herself off. "Great. How am I going to explain this?" she moaned, fixing her hair next. "You two, by the trees. You done gaping or you have any comments to add to my night?" she called. 

"Um, no. Not really," Dean stuttered, too stunned that the vampires had turned to dust. Didn't they need to be beheaded? 

"That was...pretty impressive. Odd," Sam corrected hastily. "The way he just...blew up like that." 

"Vampires tend to turn to dust when you stake them," the girl announced, stepping up to them. She twirled the stake and slid it into her sleeve, out of sight. "You get off on watching Slayers, or you looking for a fight?" She said it calmly, but Dean had no doubt that this girl could kick his ass ten ways from Sunday. 

"Heard there was a nest of vampires. Thought we could...help?" he finished lamely, eyes darting to the spot where the vampires had been dusted. 

She cocked a grin at them. "Thanks, but I'm good. You may want to stay inside after dark around here - never know what might jump out at you." 

“Yeah, okay,” Sam agreed, frowning at her. “Are you hurt?” 

She laughed. “Other than nasty vamp dust in my hair, I’m good. Now, if you boys will excuse me, I have a date waiting on me.” 

Both Winchesters stared after the girl, then back down at the now-dusted vampires. Dean swore he heard,“Amateurs,” scoffed back in their general direction, but decided to let it go. It wasn’t like he wanted to tangle with the girl. No, not at all.

“Let’s high-tail it out of here, Dean,” Sam said as he grabbed at Dean’s jacket. 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, though it was the tiniest bit wistful.

5\. Seattle (this is set in the same universe as “The End” of season 5 of Supernatural. Spoilers, ho!)

Seattle was quarantined, and for good reason. The Croatoan virus was spreading rapidly in the heaviest populated areas. Most of the major cities were either barricaded against outsiders coming in, or like Seattle, barred from anyone getting out. 

Luckily, Sam and Dean didn’t want to get out of Seattle. No, they had business just on the outskirts, where reports of mutant-like creatures had been seen in the woods. Normally, they wouldn’t have bothered, as it was no doubt the virus mutating into something even _worse_ , but Bobby had been insistent they follow up. 

“Being this close gives me the creeps,” Dean muttered as they exited the Impala, weapons at the ready. 

“You and me, both,” Sam admitted as his eyes swept the immediate area. The far-off sounds of the city were barely audible, and the woods were freaky-silent. Not a bird or crickets or squirrel made a sound. Even the wind was still. It set his teeth on edge. “Come on, the sooner we check this out, the sooner we can leave.” 

Their boots crunched the leaves thick on the forest floor, yet they still didn’t see or hear any animal scurry away from their approach. 

“Freaky,” he heard Dean mutter under his breath. 

Sam’s attention was on the far left, in the denser part of the woods. He swore he saw a silver flash, and something bulky walking through the trees. 

“Dean,” he hissed as his eyes kept sweeping that area. He saw Dean in the peripheral of his vision; gun aimed at the same place Sam was aiming.

“What was it?” he asked. 

Sam strained to see in the mostly-dark. “Not sure. Thought I saw a flash of silver eyes. It wasn’t too big, though, about the size of a deer.” 

He felt Dean’s guard go up even more, and with a nod, they split up. Sam advanced immediately to the area he thought he’d seen the figure. It was too dark in the woods to make anything out, but he kept his breathing light in order to hear the slightest sound. He whirled – off to his right; he swore he’d heard a dull thump, like a boot on hard ground. 

Croats weren’t known for their stealth, so unless the virus mutated in a _really_ strange way, he doubted it was something that simple. No, whatever was out in those woods wasn’t infected with the virus. He changed his grip on the shotgun and circled around a tree. He saw Dean move through the trees to his far right, so he continued left, pulling up short when he spotted Dean just ahead of him, staring at him. 

He nodded his head to the right, indicating that Dean should go back the way he’d come. But Dean just kept staring at him, like he was supposed to know something or do something. He pursed his lips and overexaggerated his head-tilt, hoping Dean would get the hint. 

That seemed to do the trick, because between one blink and the next, Dean was gone. Shaking his head, Sam continued his sweep, but didn’t come across anything else that indicated something lived in the woods. He never saw the flash of silver again, or any sort of mass. He made his way back to the car, huffing as Dean turned to him with weapon raised. 

“Dude, chill,” he whispered, even though he was still on alert. 

It wasn’t until they were in the Impala and safely driving away from Seattle that he brought up Dean’s weirdness. “Dude, you couldn’t follow simple gestures out there?” 

“What?” Dean asked, distractedly. The Interstate wasn’t in the best shape, and the car lurched from one side to the other to avoid the holes and debris. 

“Back there, in the woods. You looked at me like you’d never seen me before.” 

“I didn’t see you in the woods, Sam,” Dean replied. 

“Yes, you did,” he countered. “I saw you standing right in front of me, like you expected me to _do_ something. It was creepy.” 

“I’m telling you, Sam, I didn’t see you back there. I veered right and kept going in a circle until I ended up back at the car.” Dean took his eyes off the road to stare at him. “You saw me.” 

“Yes, I saw you!” he cried, growing impatient. “You were right there, staring at me –“ something clicked; something he hadn’t processed because the light was so poor. “You were younger.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You looked younger, like maybe ten years? Before I left for Stanford, anyway.” Other things were processing, now. “And you didn’t make a sound as you left. I didn’t hear a footstep.” 

“Are you saying there’s a clone of me back there? Or some freak?” Dean’s grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled. 

A huge explosion somewhere behind them rocked the car as Dean slammed on the brakes. They both turned and watched a fireball light up the sky, not five miles from where they’d been. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing we left when we did,” Sam noted absently. 

Dean pulled the car back into ‘drive’. “Maybe we better keep moving, just in case this somehow comes back on us.” 

Sam took another last look at the dissipating fire cloud and wondered what he saw in those woods.  


The End


End file.
